At 11:58 a.m., I glanced at the clock in the lobby of the Yak & Yeti Hotel in the Durbar Marg neighborhood of the Nepalese capital. I walked toward the elevator, and the floor rolled in front of me. It felt like a small boat tossed by enormous waves.
I slipped and slid on the tile floor, and ran, leaning drunkenly to the left, toward the door. I was a few feet away when I heard the glass shatter. I swayed and leaned against a pillar; I looked desperately for a door frame. A hotel employee passed by me, and I reached for his arm. “Please, help me,” I said. I followed him into the room behind the reception desk and crouched on the floor. Another hotel employee inside looked as scared as I was.
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